Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2)(2)
Author: Jennifer Foor

Realizing that I wouldn’t be able to free myself without help, I turned to ask Jules, but there was another large piece of metal in between us. The first thing I noticed was that I didn’t hear either of my girls. I called out into the cold air, seeing the truck driver running in the direction of my car.

“Jules? Jules are you okay, babe? Katie? Katie answer Daddy. Just tell me what hurts, sweetheart.”

Nothing.

I screamed their names, even when the driver came and opened my door. “Get them! Just help them!”

The old man, who looked to be in his sixties, peeked inside of my wrecked car. He pulled off his hat and shook his head, but looked right at my face. “Oh, God, I am so so sorry. Help is on the way, sir. I’ve already called.”

“Just get them out! Why can’t I hear them? Are they conscious?” I had to know. I had to know they were okay. I had to hear my little Katie’s voice. She had to be okay. We were two minutes from home.

The old man just stood there shaking his head and trying his best not to look toward the opposite side of my car.

While he just stood there, I called out for them, over and over again, with not a single sound in return.

I don’t know how long it was before help arrived. The emergency workers started on my side and I couldn’t understand why. I yelled for them over and over again to help the girls. Hell, I knew half of the guys there. Maybe they had gotten out of the car already and they were just on the side of the road getting looked at?

It wasn’t until they brought out the Jaws of Life and started cutting me out of my car that I realized the extent of the accident. As my body was pulled away from the wreckage I looked back and saw why nobody would give me an answer. The entire passenger side of my car was crushed against the steel walls of the truck. As they strapped me down to the gurney, I screamed out for my girls, over and over. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. It had to be…

“Sheriff, can you hear me?” Sheriff Towers?”

I looked up from my desk and realized that I’d been daydreaming again. It happened every single day since the accident last year. When I lost my girls, I lost all of my reasons for living. I didn’t want to survive that accident. I shouldn’t have.

This was my punishment.

I closed myself off from the rest of our family, unable to live with the burden of being the driver that night. I’d killed my girls and I would never be able to forgive myself.

After it all happened, I gave up on working, paying bills, and having a life at all. The bank took the house and with little left in my savings, I moved to West Virginia to a little town where I wouldn’t have to talk about what had happened to me. I was sick of the whispers and condolences. Didn’t they know that the mere mention of their names brought back every single beautiful moment of our life together? Couldn’t they fathom that I didn’t want to have to imagine living out a full life and never being able to hear them tell me that they loved me? Did they know what it was like to sleep in my daughters room and cry like a small child? Had they not considered that every single thing in my life reminded me of my girls? It had become too much to handle.

Making the move was the easiest of decisions. An old friend got me the job and had put in a good word for me. The town was small with only two thousand people. I found a cabin about five miles down a mountainous country road, off the beaten path.

I just wanted to be alone; to be able to live out my life in seclusion. I wasn’t an idiot. With the internet out there, it was obvious that some people would know the truth. Still, not one of them had the balls to mention my past to me. I’d rather them fear me, then ask the questions that I would never have been able to answer.

“Sheriff, are you alright?” My deputy, Shelton Morris, asked again.

I shook off the flashback and put on a fake smile. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

“You want to talk about it?” Shelton was a nice kid. He was in his early twenties and his Grand pappy had been the last sheriff for the past forty years. He died of a massive heart attack six months ago.

“Nah, it’s all good. What were you saying?” I had to keep up the charade that I was just one man. They wouldn’t be able to understand what it was like to lose everything. Not one day went by where I hadn’t asked myself why I had lived and they had…died.

My girls were in my heart and the flashbacks were enough of a reminder that I had taken their lives. I just wanted to do my job and go home without the stares or the burning questions.

“Listen, I know you’re new here, but it ain’t good to hold things in. If you ever need to talk, just let me know. You seem like maybe you need a friend. You been here for nearly six months and nobody knows a dang thing about you, cept for what they read about. I’m just sayin’, if you need a buddy, we can have beer sometime.”

I put on a fake smile and stood up from my desk. “I appreciate that. I’m good. Just not real used to the quiet out here. I’m finding it hard to sleep at night.” The sleeping part was true, but it wasn’t because of the quiet. It was because I was alone. I was a broken man and I couldn’t be fixed, not by a therapist, or even a buddy. There was no hope for me.

Shelton shook his head and smiled back. “Alright, man. Well, I need to run out and check on Mrs. Parks. She claims that someone keeps vandalizin’ her mailbox.”

“That’s real crime there.” This was what we dealt with in this town. We didn’t have gangbangers or drive-bys.

“Yeah, well, it’s a job!” Shelton laughed as he walked out the door. I waited for him to leave before standing up and getting another cup of coffee. The flashbacks were worse when I didn’t sleep the night before. I usually had bourbon to help with that, but the more I used that as a solution, the less it worked.

This was my life. It was never going to be any better.

Chapter 2

Vessa Jean

Mornings were so hard for me, considering that I was usually up until two, closing out the bar that I bartended at. My life didn’t just revolve around my job though; I had two kids that needed to be taken care of. Sure, their dad was around, but between his job doing tattoos at the shop and his outside customers, he wasn’t home that much to be able to manage the kids schedules. Not that I expected it out of him either way. He was pretty much worthless when it came to being responsible.

I loved my children. They were my whole world. Asha was ten and Logan was almost six and with their opposite personalities, they were sometimes hard to handle. They fought a lot, making my life even harder at times. Gavin , my husband, was never there to see any of that though.